


Am I still here as one with the fear

by TinyHannah



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Dante is helping, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Vergil is learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 23:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyHannah/pseuds/TinyHannah
Summary: Even the most put together struggles at three a.m.At that vulnerable point in time when your circadian rhythm is out of sync, and it’s natural; a universally accepted fact so it should be easy to take it for what it is and apply some logic and let it wash over him.It’ll all seem better in the morning.





	Am I still here as one with the fear

Even the most put together struggles at three a.m. At that vulnerable point in time when your circadian rhythm is out of sync, and it’s natural; a universally accepted fact so it should be easy to take it for what it is and apply some logic and let it wash over him. It’ll all seem better in the morning.

But logic just doesn’t want to come easily tonight. He can’t switch on the part of his brain that he relies so much on during the day. The part that is filled with logic and reasoning, answers to problems, a pragmatic solution to everything that he faces. He just cannot find it within himself to lay back and let go. Instead he alternates between staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning around the still unfamiliar bed, laying first on his back, then curled on his side, before stretching out with one arm hooked under the pillow and his legs extended away from him. Each position is comfortable, and almost tempts him back into welcome sleep. Almost.

He is awash with unwelcome thoughts. All the things he knows are small, irrational, but at this time in the morning the smallest worries - that in waking hours he wouldn’t even acknowledge as a worry - grow legs and they become all-consuming monsters not dissimilar to the demons he has become far too familiar with. Only this time, instead of pulling at his flesh and blood they are invading something altogether more vulnerable and at risk. He pushes them away as best he can, tries his hand once again at rationalising, and god is that logical part of his brain letting him down right now - he does everything he can to remind himself he is here, this is real, this is safe - he is safe.

He thinks it’s working. He thinks he can feel things shift back to normal, he notices his heart rate returning to normal - although when that too had spiked out of his control, he wasn’t sure.

Vergil lifts an unsteady hand and reaches for the glass of water on the cabinet beside him. At the time he had scoffed and dismissed this to his brother as such an unnecessary human touch, if he wanted a drink through the night, he was more than capable of standing and crossing a couple of rooms to get one. Now, with his hands feeling as unsteady of the rest of him, getting the water to his lips without spilling some down his chest was proving a challenge and he was quietly grateful for the small touch of warmth and familiarity such a simple thing had brought him.

Placing the glass back down again Vergil let’s himself fall back into the pillows and lets the darkness and the warmth pull him back, pull him down; he lets it envelope him and tries to view it surrounding him as layers of safety. It’s been so long since he had been allowed to feel safe at night, he was too used to having to be on high alert at all times - there never was a chance to relax as that one moment of letting his guard down could be the difference between life and death.

When he had first returned the sheer exhaustion had been enough to carry him through the nights. He had been asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow and slept long past dawn - he had insisted that the blackout blinds on the window in the room that was now being called his were the reason, and Dante, being ever patient and accommodating smirked at him and didn’t outright disagree, but even without the words to confirm it Vergil knew Dante saw straight through what he was saying. 

Now though, the exhaustion had passed, his body was returning to feeling as though it was his, enough rest and good food held a lot of comforts it turned out. Not that he had been without food or gone hungry, but everything tasted better here, and eating with company, interaction, laughter - every meal was an event to behold and he looked forward to it. These would be what he missed most if it was all to be taken away now. 

He was safe. He was home. He was nearing something that other people may have called content. And yet still three a.m. chose to haunt him.

“Can’t sleep?”

Dante stood in the doorway peering into the darkness of the room, and Vergil could make out his brothers outline as he padded quietly into the room.

“Mmm.” Vergil didn’t care to offer much, still unwilling to share too freely and let the last remaining walls be broken down too easily. There was still too much that could be broken within him, too vulnerable and he still wasn’t sure how to go about taming all his demons.

“Same. Three a.m. is a bitch and she has this beautiful way of making you feel like shit doesn’t she.” Dante spoke casually, as though this was something he was used to, familiar with. And although he was used to it, he had long given up fighting it, he was accepting of it - he could let it be and give it the time it needed to pass.

“C’mon Verge. Get up. No use trying to ride this one out, drink something hot. Breathe. Stand in the light. It’ll help. I promise.”

Dante walked out and Vergil could hear him make his way across the corridor, into the kitchen and the kettle filling with water before being switched on and the sounds of mugs being placed down, cupboards opening and movement began to fill the small space, filling the oppressive silence that had taken over Vergil’s head.

Vergil sighed and sat up in bed, the covers pooling around his waist and he let the cool night air wash over his bare skin, prickling on contact. He put his head in his hands, rubbing the heel of his hands into his eyes and breathing deeply for a moment. This was okay, it was okay. He was here, he was home. He was safe. He had Dante here, it was just that he couldn’t sleep, it was fine. He was safe.

He was home.


End file.
